Loss and Recovery
by Avelynn Tame
Summary: He had no idea who he was. [Flashfic Challenge response]


**Challenge: 001 - Memories**

**Title:** Loss and Recovery

**Word Count: **Exactly 1000 – phew!

**Summary: **He had no idea who he was.

**A/N:** Submitted in response to the weekly fic challenge on the LJ Flashfic Community. Sadly I had to cut quite a bit out since the word limit was 1000, but never mind.

* * *

"Is it permanent?"

"It's… hard to say in these cases. Each individual is different – in time, he may recover partially or even completely. We'll just have to wait."

"If he were going to show signs of improvement, wouldn't we have seen them already? I mean, he's been conscious for four days."

"Currently his body is prioritising his physical repair, and we can help that along somewhat. But mentally, the healing process could potentially take years. Occasionally…"

"What?"

"I don't want to get your hopes up, but… sometimes, a sharp mental jolt can have a startling effect – seeing a loved one, or re-visiting a very familiar place… But it's not guaranteed."

"I understand. Thank you, sensei."

"Not at all. If there's anything you need, please feel free to ask either myself or a member of my staff."

Kyoya nodded at the doctor as he walked away, down the white, sterile hospital corridor. He, Mori, Honey and the twins stared through the window at where Tamaki lay in bed, smiling beatifically at the nurse as she took his temperature.

He had no idea who he was.

Suou Tamaki, aged 23, just beginning to come into his own within the Suou business empire… had retrograde amnesia secondary to a massive cranial injury.

He'd been visiting the construction site of a new commerce park – with construction sites being dangerous places and Tamaki being… well, Tamaki, it wasn't _too_ surprising that an accident had taken place.

That didn't, however, make it any less worrying. Especially when Kyoya and the others had each been to see him, and he hadn't had a single clue who they were.

Kyoya had, of course, called in all the top specialists, but they had all said the same thing: recovery was possible, but it would take time. It was frustrating, not being able to do anything.

They'd finally been able to get in touch with Haruhi the previous evening – she was away, hiking in the mountains with her father, and lousy cell phone reception had conspired to prevent them from reaching her.

She was on her way back, despite their instructions to at least finish her holiday. Kyoya had to admit that this was a relief. At the very least, Haruhi could distract the twins – who were difficult enough to deal with on any given day, but became about ten times worse when they were worried – and comfort Honey, not to mention lend a sane, sensitive ear to Kyoya and Mori if they needed it… and they might.

And at the most… well, who knew?

* * *

Haruhi arrived earlier than they expected.

It was as they were leaving Tamaki's room after another – unsuccessful – visit that they saw her barrelling down the corridor towards them, her face set in a worried expression, hair tucked into a loose plait, still in her hiking shorts and boots.

Honey met her halfway, throwing his arms around her waist and hugging her tight. "Haru-chan," he mumbled, his face pressed into her abdomen.

Her expression softened, and she wrapped her arms around him, idly stroking his hair. "I'm sure he'll be ok, Honey-senpai," she reassured him – still using the honorific despite the fact that they were all long out of Ouran and Honey had told her many times just to call him Honey.

Haruhi looked over the top of his head at the others. "Hi," she mouthed.

When Honey let her go, she greeted Mori with a gentle smile and let the twins manhandle her for a spell, before carefully disentangling herself and allowing Kyoya to lead her down the corridor to the family room.

"How is he?" she asked, automatically moving to make coffee.

"The same," Kyoya replied. "The neurologist from Pittsburgh is arriving tomorrow, but I'm not expecting drastic results. They're saying it could take years."

She nodded. "I looked it up on the 'net when I was waiting for my flight. A lot of people make full recoveries, you know."

"I know. But some don't."

She handed him a cup of coffee and laid a hand on his arm. "How are you doing?"

He gave a tired smile. "I'm coping. But we can discuss me later. For now… would you like to see him?"

* * *

When she pushed the door open and stepped inside, he didn't seem to notice her at first. The others slipped in discreetly behind her and closed the door.

The soft 'click' made Tamaki look up.

He smiled pleasantly at them all. "Hello. _You_ were here before, I think," he said, pointing to the men behind Haruhi, "but _you_… you're new." He looked her over in a rather lewd fashion. "You, I like. Do I know you?"

Haruhi stepped closer. "Tamaki… you can't remember me at all?"

He grinned widely and started to shake his head… then his smile froze, and his eyebrows knotted together. Slowly, he tilted his head and stared, as if seeing her in a different light. "I… I'm not…" He shook his head. "I… Ha-Haruhi?"

Behind her, Kyoya exhaled sharply, as if he'd been holding his breath for far too long.

Haruhi's lips curved upward. "That's me. You can remember… that's great, Tamaki…" Her smile turned into an angry glare. "Because now I can yell at you like you deserve!"

Tamaki recoiled, alarmed, as Haruhi advanced on him fiercely. "You absolute idiot! Tamaki, if you see a sign telling you to wear a hard hat, then you wear a goddamn hard hat! I don't _care_ if it gives you hat hair; I don't even care if it makes you bald – those safety signs are there for a reason! And another thing…"

"Haruhi," Tamaki tried to cut through the tirade, but failed miserably. He looked mostly bewildered, but beneath the confusion, Kyoya was certain he could see a glimmer of recognition.

He smiled, and left to find the doctor to inform him of this development, the familiar plaintive whining of Tamaki – who was beginning to remember how he used to respond to Haruhi's scolding – following him down the corridor.

**Fin**


End file.
